You know how it goes? You finally pick up a book by that author that’s been haunting the periphery of your subconscious for too long and suddenly you can’t imagine life before them? You find they’ve been writing exactly the kind of thing that would fill some particularly vexing void in your reading experience for who knows how long now and whatever the hang up was, whatever feeble excuse you used to shield yourself from this kind of fulfilling ingestion, now it just looks flimsy and detestable.
Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Recently, I’ve been trying to give off the impression that I’ve been reading William Gay's books for a decade now, but that's just not true. I don't remember why it took so long for me to seize on his books, but I do recall a few particularly foolish reasons I gave myself for neglecting some of my current favorites. Size and density were the hurdles between me and James Ellroy’s immensely satisfying LA. Quartet, but when I finally cracked the spine on White Jazz , I caught up on the back catalog in a blink, (and yeah, I read them in reverse order – didn’t matter). With James Lee Burke it was fearing a long-running series character that denied me the pleasure of Dave Robicheaux and Burke’s fluid, lyrical style. Speaking of Burke it was just the opposite with Andrew Vachss, having tried a couple of the novels featuring his Christian-name-challenged underworld avenger and soldier of fortune and found them to be not quite what I wanted, I waited too long to try his stand-alones like Shella and Two Trains Running which made me hungry for more from him.
I am ashamed to admit that something as silly as an author photo kept Graham Greene at arm’s length for too long, (I don’t know – looked too stuffy and British for me – I am a philistine). I’m not sure what eventually convinced me to put aside my gender bias and read Patricia Highsmith or my equally baseless age-related issues with James Crumley’s high-octane, Milo and Sughrue books, (God bless him – he aged his characters in real time and by the end they were some well worn pieces of humanity), but once again, what everybody said turned out to be right. These books rocked.
So, whether it’s a low opinion of the person who recommended it, a lousy movie adaptation or one of the aforementioned biases, I’m curious what kept you from trying your favorite books or writers earlier?
